Overheard

Tomorrow is my turn to plan a Seminary game. I turn to my spouse for creative inspiration. "Hey Brad," I ask. "What was your favorite thing to play when you were a seminary student?"

Without hesitation, he says, "Spin the Bottle."

Not surprising. Not helpful either.

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Sam at dinner table, "Ewwww. Do NOT get your eyeball juice on me again, Emmie!"

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A little brother with a secret is a dangerous thing. Luke helped me pick out a surprise DVD to watch on our Thanksgiving roadtrip. Of course, he could not contain his excitement and started giving broad hints to his oldest brother.

"OK, OK! I'll just give you the first two letters.... U and P."

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In line, at the H1N1 vaccination station, I heard a kindergartner mention my twins to his mom. I couldn't see him pointing, but I knew he was talking about us.

"Look, Mom!" he said. "Those boys are twins and they ride my bus. That one is the nice one. And that one is the mean one."

For the record, so far, nobody has 'fessed up to being the Mean One.

But I have my suspicions.

Photo Shoot

What do you get when you combine some cute kids, a seriously intense camera and one fantastic photographer?

You get an afternoon of adventure at the farm down the road!

(Not to mention a whole bunch of really great photos...coming soon to a Christmas card near you.)

We loved having Aunt Christie come to stay as she snapped, clicked and flashed her way through the Keystone State. I was seriously impressed with her professionalism and creative talent. This girl's got it together. She's so good!

As her honorary sista, I felt a whole lot of family pride and was excited to recommend her to my friends. It was just fun to be a part to of her East Coast debut.

In between gigs, Stie hung around for some late night chatting, a few good meals and one ridiculously heinous movie. (Oops, my bad...)

Still, it was one great weekend.

Say Cheese!

Go check out our photographer's website. She really makes everyone look beautiful.

While you're there, wish her a happy birthday! Love ya, Stie!

The Day the Vaccine Came to Town

My mom still remembers the day she got her polio shot. It was an historical and traumatizing event in her young life.

My kids had their own historical moment yesterday when the H1N1 vaccine finally came to town.

We stood in a line that wrapped around the high school with 11,000 of our closest friends and neighbors.

I have to confess that I dreaded the whole thing for days--the crowds, the crying, the craziness.

But I was pleasantly surprised. There were hundreds of volunteers, community helpers and medical staff.

The line moved quickly, the paperwork was minimal, the organization was simply fantastic.

My kids each took some big snorts with their little snouts.

And that's the last time they'll act like swine this season.

I hope.

My Daughter, The Jock

Not a sports picture...but still pretty cute!

Emily started basketball this week. Soccer doesn't finish until later this month, so she's double-teamin' right now. She loves it and she's good. I'm proud of her. I'm impressed that she can actually throw and catch and dribble and kick. And run. And run. And run. Wow, this girl can run. So what if she didn't start walking 'til 18 months? She sure makes up for it now.

Miss Em lives for competition. She loves games and loves to win. Many evenings she chooses a few rounds of Uno over a bedtime story. Most times she wins. Fair and square.

I love having an athletic daughter. I always admired the girls who could flirt with the boys and then beat 'em on the tennis court. I always wanted to be the sporty type. But it's kinda hard to be sporty if you hate running and are afraid of the ball.

Back in my Elementary Ed days at BYU, I had to take a course for future gym teachers. To pass the class I was required to do the following:

1. Stand on my head for 60 seconds. I am not kidding.
2. Make five free-throw shots in a row.
3. Throw a football some ridiculous number of yards away from my body.

Luckily, that semester I had this really cute boyfriend who was also pretty athletic. I felt all helpless and feminine while he showed me the finer points of throwing a spiral. So romantic! I was sure the big He-Man was falling hopelessly in love with Dainty Li'l Me.

It worked. But a few months later, after we were engaged and talking about our future family, he said, "I just hope our kids take after me, you know, in the coordination department."

Fortunately (and, quite miraculously, actually) they all did.

And, because one of the best (and worst) things about being a mom is reliving your own childhood through your kids' experiences...now I can proudly say that I am a girl jock, too.

Yay, team!

In Praise of Monday Morning

The best-kept secret of motherhood is Monday morning.

After a whole weekend of soccer games, Pet Pals club, play dates, Chuck-E-Cheese, errand running, Sabbath "resting" and family togetherness...Monday morning is my return to sanity.

I put the big kids on the bus, the little kids in front of Caillou, turn on my podcasts and then I'm on my own.

With 700 lbs. of dirty laundry, of course.

The thing is, I don't really even mind emptying wastebaskets, folding laundry and scrubbing the kitchen floor. On a Monday morning, it's my time. (As opposed to Saturday family chore time which I know is important, but let's face it, can be agonizing.)

I sort my thoughts as I separate the darks and whites. I scrub a grubby corner of the pantry and let my mind tackle a tricky scheduling dilemma. I wipe fingerprints off the glass door and resolve to improve parenting mistakes. It's Monday! A fresh start!

I learned early in my stay-at-home career that it was best to keep Monday's AM calendar square relatively clear. No doctor's appointments, no swimming lessons, no obligations. The foundation I lay Monday morning sets the tone for the entire week. And if I can get my house pulled back together, I feel a whole lot better about me, too.

The dryer is beeping. Is there anything better than fresh, warm towels? Or is that just me?

Enjoy your Monday, friends!

Fifth Inning Musings

9:39 PM--I am sitting on the couch watching the World Series. Em is asleep next to me. Jake is foraging in the kitchen. He loves staying up on school nights and I am enjoying his company.

Brad is watching on the West Coast. It is weird to watch sports without him. Basically he serves as my own personal sportscaster. I can blog, read, plan my Seminary lesson, or sleep on the sofa and he'll keep me informed. I like his commentary and explanations. Also his snacks. Brad makes really delightful late night snacks.

I want the Phillies to win, but it's not looking good right now. And, let's face it, I haven't done anything for them this year. So how can I demand a championship? They owe me nothing.

I'm worried about Jake, though, he's taking this very personally.

It's fun to have a pre-teen in the house. Even though Jake's social development can be a little unpredictable, he is growing into a very typical young man physically and emotionally. Just a few centimeters behind me and with a mouthful of train tracks, the kid is every inch a tween.

Of course, I'm not crazy about the mood swings and I need to spend my entire clothing budget replacing all his high-waters. But it's fun to have a male presence, someone who knows all the Phillies' names and laughs at the goofy commercials.

I like watching sports with cute boys. And this one still lets me kiss him goodnight.

Go Phils!

Halloweening

Halloween was not about me this year.

It used to be all about me. My costume inspirations. My pumpkin carving skills. My beautifully decorated sugar cookies.

Well. This year I let the little people take charge and guess what? Halloween survived without me. Seriously. Who needs sugar cookies?

Look what they came up with all on their own...

Jake designed his own zombie costume. It was bloody. It was scary. His newly-installed oral hardware added a sinister gleam. I offered to buy any ortho-threatening candy for 5 cents a piece. But Brad doubled my offer and Jake is no dummy.

Girls of a certain age like to dress up to match their friends. I support it wholeheartedly, as long as they are not showing too much skin. Em is a die-hard Dr. Suess fan and came up with this idea weeks ago. The blue hair looked much better in person.

Sam was all set with a Harry Potter costume...or so I thought. Five minutes before the kindergarten bus, he burst into tears and refused to wear the robe, the lightning bolt or the Hogwarts tie.

The only costume that made him happy was this dinosaur costume which once belonged to Jake. At age 3. It was so snug, we called Sam "Wedgiesaurus." He was thrilled with himself.

Nascar Luke was typically easy-going and cooperative. Still, he balked at the idea of a helmet or makeup. (I thought a little pencilled facial hair might be fun...but it's not about me, right?) This was the first year the twins didn't dress alike for Halloween. The end of an era. I'm a little sad about it.

Brad does not dress up. He wears plaid and denim and watches the Phillies.

The highlight of my week was meeting up with my blog buddy, Jessica. (Yes, she really is this pretty!) Next year she's going to come trick-or-treating with me and we're going to wear matching costumes and spray our hair blue.

Witchcraft

Grasshopper cookie + chocolate-dipped Bugle = witch hat toppers for kindergarten cupcakes.

Yes, I am the room mom and, yes, I will be pre-medicating before tomorrow's party.

This is my newest way to get help with the laundry. The kids love tossing dirty underwear over the banister.

I stand below to catch and sort. It's actually kinda fun.

Just watch for stray socks on the entry hall table.

And tonight I'm feeling truly evil after taking Jake to get braces. Two days before trick-or-treating. He can't eat anything hard, sticky, or chewy. Poor li'l pumpkin. Doesn't he look all grown up though? He's my Halloween-tween now.

What trouble's bubbling at your house?